A New Day
by Natmonkey
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, drink isn't the only thing Oghren has a weakness for. Just ask the elven Warden.


_Challenge accepted and beaten, **Apollo Wings. **Thanks for putting a seed in my head that refused to wait until the next day. I had to stay up until 6 am to finish this. _

* * *

The girl is an elf. An _elf_. Dainty, delicate, pretty. So, an elf. Tradition dictates that it ought to be against his nature to be attracted to this lithe creature – especially since he likes a woman with a bit of extra meat on her bones – but apparently, reality is different. Plain and simple: he can't stop thinking about her. She reminds him of Branka, minus the insanity and carpet-munching part. It didn't take him long to find out that the elven Warden possesses a mind sharper than a razor. She's tough as nails, too. The way she can handle any situation, thinking and talking in circles around everyone else, is nothing short of impressive. He admires her, really. Her unshakable confidence, her brilliant mind. Shame about the barely hidden pain behind her eyes, though; pretty face like that shouldn't be allowed to look so sad. Oghren catches himself wanting to hold her and make her pain go away, erasing his own in the process. He grunts and passes a hand over his tired eyes, taking a long pull from his new favourite bottle. The taste of the alcohol is starting to pall on him more and more as thoughts of his not-so-dear departed wife and his failure are being replaced by thoughts of the Grey Warden. He shakes his head. What in the sodding Stone is he thinking? The girl is an _elf_.

~*|'-'|*~

It so happens to be their turn to watch the camp tonight. Waste of time; nothing ever happens. Oghren has set his drink aside, not even slightly drunk for a change. The taste is like the dirtiest dirt in his mouth. He warms his hands by the fire, stealing the occasional glance at the elven Warden across from him. The poor girl is looking especially gloomy tonight; there is a sad, distant look in those beautiful eyes of hers. The dwarf wants nothing more than to sit beside her, ask her about her troubles and chase them away. Sadly, he is too afraid that he might betray his feelings. That would be awkward, he imagines. A dejected sigh draws his attention and he notices how his companion is now looking even gloomier. _Oh, sod it._

Calm on the outside, but heart raging on the inside, he saunters over to the elf and sits down beside her. "Are you all right, kid?" he asks her, lightly touching her bare arm. He shouldn't have done that; the silky skin against his fingertips is enough to send his imagination into overdrive. The sight of tears streaming down her pretty face quickly snaps him out of it. Everything happens so fast after that.

One moment she is crying against his chest while he soothingly strokes her back; the next, her lips are on his. Or his on hers. He is unsure of who exactly kissed whom to begin with. It doesn't even matter. Their mouths are joined together, tongues slowly dancing around one another, and he doesn't want it to stop. Ever.

Never breaking their kiss, Oghren picks up the nearly weightless Warden and carries her to her tent, where it will no doubt be cleaner than in his own. Once safely and gently lain on her bedroll, the girl severs their connection. She cups his face in her delicate hands and stares at him, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Oghren," she murmurs, a dreamy tone to her voice. "Is this really happening?"

He grins and replies: "You bet," before kissing her once more. Her lips are soft and plaint; her tongue tastes indescribably sweet. The dwarf could explore her mouth for hours and still be hungry for more. The elf, however, appears to be of an entirely different mind as her fingers are plucking impatiently at his clothes. Smiling at her enthusiasm, he allows the girl to undress him and gets to work on her in turn, until he can feel her firm breasts against his chest, divided by only the thin fabric of her breast binder.

Almost reluctantly Oghten moves his mouth away from hers. Kiss after kiss he presses to her warm, smooth skin. Down her slender neck, along her collar bones. She feels so delicate that he fears he might break her if he is too rough. His fingers tremble as he relieves the elf of her breast binder.

Two perfectly round apples greet his eyes. Her nipples, proudly standing at attention, are a pale shade of pink. They look irresistible. Ever so gently he rubs his thumbs against them, eliciting a delighted mewl. The girl's fingers tangle into his hair when he bends his head to capture a rosy peak between his teeth. She arches into him, his name on her lips. Her obvious eagerness is making his smalls feel awfully tight. Still he somehow manages to restrain himself and continues his treatment of her perfect tits, one rough hand gliding down her toned stomach.

His fingers halt mere inches above her knickers. He is deathly afraid that he will hurt this delicate little being with his thick, clumsy fingers, until the Warden impatiently yanks down her last undergarment and guides his hand between her thighs. Warm wetness coats his fingers. For the very first time, Oghren hears the elven girl laugh: "I'm not made from porcelain!" The mirth in her voice takes on a distinctly lustful tone. "You can be as rough as you want to be."

He looks down on her blushing face, a smile on his own. "What if I don't want to be at all?" She responds with an endeared noise, kissing him breathlessly and locking him in her arms. Through the haze of loving lust, the dwarf manages to focus ever so slightly. She moans into his mouth at the movements of his fingers, teasing the pronounced nub that pulses against them. It doesn't take long for her legs to begin shaking and her frame to pull taut as a bowstring. The Warden digs her nails into Oghren's shoulder blades as she comes, safely cradled against his chest. She is still panting blissfully when his mouth follows the trail of his fingers. Down her lightly muscled stomach and right between her thighs.

Satisfied sighs turn to ecstatic moans. His tongue unerringly finds the best spot to apply pressure to, a thick finger gaining possession of her twitching channel at the same time – a few tips and tricks he picked up from his late wife. Effective ones too, judging from the obvious pleasure the elven girl is deriving from his attentions. Oghren, meanwhile, has become hooked to the flavour of her, so much better than any drink that's ever passed his lips. A happy kind of drunkenness has taken over his senses as he makes her come again and again.

The taste of her juice fills his mouth, the scent of it his nostrils. Only after the Warden has been reduced to a moaning little puddle, does he tear himself away from her and lays himself down between her quivering thighs. At this point his cock is harder and thicker than it's ever been in his life. He has placed the tip at her slick entrance when she breathlessly tells him to wait. The dwarf is on his back faster than he can blink.

She flings herself down upon him, her sweet face buried in the crook of his neck and her hands roaming his body. "I've wanted you for so long," the girl breathes into his skin. He's not given much time to ponder this as her mouth and fingers suddenly appear to be everywhere. All the while she is caressing and fondling him, she tells him how wonderful she thinks he is. It's a novel experience; Branka has never said such things to him and neither has Felsi. A warm feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. It's pleasant. Not as pleasant as feeling her tongue on his cock is, though.

Licking her lips, her gaze shamelessly sweeps his hard length. "You're so big," she purrs. "Look." He may not be quite as long as her forearm, but he certainly is thicker. "Impressive." Biting her lower lip, she locks eyes with him. Those beautiful eyes never leave his while she pleasures him with her mouth. Her warm, wet, soft tongue twirls around the head, her hands firmly massaging his shaft. This doesn't even come close to the intimate encounters with his left hand; it's almost too good to bear. He audibly grits his teeth. Suddenly the elf groans: "Oh, I can't wait any longer!" She straddles his loins and lowers her wet cunt over his aching cock in one fell swoop. It's been too long since the last time he felt such hot, moist, tight flesh (and even then it wasn't half as good as this); it takes all of his willpower not to ruin it right away.

The heaviness in his groin, that feeling of his seed being all too ready to erupt to the surface, gradually lessens. He now has ample time and awareness to watch the Warden enjoy his cock, riding it slowly. Her body is moving so beautifully; the way her features twist in pleasure is exquisite. Tiny moans pour from between her parted lips. She places his hands on her chest, encouraging him to grab and knead hard enough to bruise.

Oghren at long last realizes he shouldn't just lie there and let the girl do all the work. With every sensual roll of her hips, he rises to meet her, coaxing forth cries that grow louder and louder with each thrust. He gives one final shove, burying himself in her completely, and comes harder than he's ever done. The elf enhances the experience with a passionate kiss, while a whole array of multi-coloured fireworks go off behind his eyelids.

His eyes open to the sight of her happy face. Pulling her covers over the both of them, the elven Warden snuggles up to him with a content sigh. There is no need to speak. She lays her hand over his heart, before smiling lazily and drifting off to sleep. Oghren covers her hand with his. The sudden flood of happiness is so overwhelming, the dwarf has no choice but to step out for a moment. That, or break down completely. Outside it is. He pulls his drawers and trousers back on, then bolts through the tent flap.

Just outside the exit, he nearly bowls over two very guilty-looking figures. Well, one of them is, anyway. The other Warden's face turns a bright red as he stutters out some lame excuse; his pipe-cleaning friend only gives a slow applause. "Bravo!" Zevran says approvingly. "Now _that_ is how you resolve the elven/dwarven rivalry." He holds a blue bottle out to the dwarf. "Drink up, my stocky friend. You deserve it."

Oghren reaches for it out of habit, but on second thought pulls his hand back. "Nah, I'm good." A wide grin appears under his moustache as he thinks of the beautiful woman he left asleep in her tent. _His_ woman now. He sniffs the cool morning air, pale dawn creeping in at the edges of darkness. Birds are beginning to sing their tunes. A new day has begun. "I think I'll lay off the stuff for a while."


End file.
